


Unexpected Opportunities

by StopTalkingAtMe



Category: Steampunk Tarot Deck - Barbara Moore & Aly Fell
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Content, Threesome, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29397822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopTalkingAtMe/pseuds/StopTalkingAtMe
Summary: "Three women walk into a bar: a researcher, an aviatrix, and a fortuneteller."
Relationships: Researcher/Aviatrix/Fortune Teller, Three of Cups Left/Middle/Right Characters
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Unexpected Opportunities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Melody_Jade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melody_Jade/gifts).



At first glance, the bar struck Elizabeth as distinctly unpromising, located as it was on a grimy out-of-the-way side-street, where the buildings, with their overhanging eaves and thickly leaded windows, were those of a much older city. It was lit not by the actinic street lamps now commonplace in the better parts of town, but by a sparsely strung cable of dimly illuminated crystal-glass globes, spilling out a yellowish light that did little to pierce the gloom. It was a good job that one was located directly outside the bar’s entrance, since otherwise Elizabeth might have walked right past it.

The door had been wedged open, and inside steps led down into a Stygian gloom that looked even less promising than the street, but she was of stout heart and, perhaps even more importantly, she had faith in her friends. Granted, that faith had proved somewhat misplaced on occasional, but she could always count on them for the important things, such as the choice of drinking establishments.

Descending into the bar was rather like descending into the depths of a cave. The staircase was narrow and rickety, and not one she would have wished to navigate while drunk, its handrail a greasy-to-the-touch rope strung to the wall with fraying golden thread.

She knew exactly the sort of place she would find at the bottom: a seedy dive, with floorboards sticky underfoot, and bathroom walls covered with such a fascinating array of moulds and mildews as to offer an expert in infusoria a lifetime’s worth of study. Exactly the sort of place they’d holed up in years ago when they played hooky from school, where the barman wouldn’t ask too many questions. She knew exactly what to expect, and so when she actually walked into the bar itself what she found was enough to make her stop dead in her tracks.

It was richly furnished and opulent, with plush, comfortable seating and a polished oak bar that stretched the length of the cavernous room. A thousand crystal shards hung from an aether-charged chandelier, twinkling with a shimmering light, reflected and amplified by the many mirrors hanging on the walls. The air was rich with the sweet smell of beeswax and the promise of good food. In fact, about the only thing she’d got right was the barman, who did indeed look quite capable of ignoring everything he saw and instantly forgetting everything he could not fail to see.

Clearly, Andrea taste had improved since they were girls, Elizabeth thought, before an exacting inner voice pointed out that perhaps she had simply become a better class of pirate.

Andrea and Beatrice were seated at the far end of the room. They had chosen the most comfortable sofa in the establishment, and were deep in animated conversation. They didn’t seem to have noticed her, and Elizabeth paused, ever the scientist, eager to embrace the opportunity to observe them in a candid moment.

Perhaps a year and a bit had passed since they’d all been together in the same room, and they looked no different. Andrea still wore her dark hair cropped, her clothes that ought to look boyish somehow cleverly tailored to fit her frame so that they seemed anything but. Beatrice was lush and blooming in flowing silks that contrived to reveal as much as they concealed. Swallowing down the knot of envy in her throat, Elizabeth smoothed her hands down over her own prim silk skirts. She’d always found their friendship both gratifying and curious; it struck her as odd that three so very different women should be drawn to each other as friends, and even odder that they should remain friends throughout their lives.

Then Beatrice looked up, with an air that suggested she had known Elizabeth was there all the while.

"Lizzie, you're here!" she called out, her face breaking into a smile. "Did you manage to find the place? You must have thought it a dreadful pit."

"And I told her I had faith in you," Andrea said, her own smile rather more sardonic. "Which I did. And I see I was entirely in the right." She stood and took Elizabeth’s hand, kissing its back, almost in the manner of a gentleman, although no gentleman of Andrea’s breeding would have allowed his lips to linger on Elizabeth's knuckles for that length of time.

She sighed happily as she sat down. Nothing had changed; all was well.

At first, Elizabeth was glad to find that she was not the only one with good news. Andrea had discovered the final piece of a map which purported to reveal the whereabouts of an outpost long thought lost in the western reaches of the Redriver jungles, and Beatrice had discovered a new kind of crystal ball that she thought might serve her better as a scrying aid. She was happy for them both and told them both so in no uncertain terms.

Unfortunately, when it came to Elizabeth's own recent accomplishments, her friends did not seem quite as pleased for her as she could have hoped. She’d always known her life was not one either would have chosen, and she feared her own mild misgivings might have shown on her face, but it _was_ an astonishing breakthrough, her first major discovery in her time at the Institute, and damn it, she was proud of it.

Her breakthrough lay in the study of crystals, and a particular formation which had resulted in a tripling of the crystal’s ability to resonate with the aether, and in so doing allow it to pierce the veil between the alternate universes that lay alongside their own, sometimes so closely that shadows from those other worlds might be glimpsed as phantoms.

Her friends listened politely, but when she’d finished they simply exchanged a look, and murmured half-hearted congratulations. Stung, Elizabeth sipped her wine.

"I believe I might have read something along it in the Chronicle," Andrea ventured, picking her words carefully. "An interview with a Professor Abraxas... but..."

"My supervisor at the Institute," Elizabeth said. "A charming man. And an old friend of my father’s. He was so delighted with my results, he spoke to the Press."

Beatrice broke in. "The point is, Lizzie, my love, your name wasn't mentioned."

"Naturally," Elizabeth said, her voice brittle. "There was really no reason why he should have mentioned my name–"

"Especially," said Beatrice, "if his intention was to steal the credit."

Andrea's face tightened, her lips pressing together, but she said nothing, her silence evidence, had Elizabeth needed it, that she agreed with the fortune teller. At a loss, Elizabeth gripped the slender stem of her wine glass and twirled it between her fingers. It was good wine, excellent wine; she doubted she would be able to find better even in the salons of the great families. Some moments passed before she could marshal her thoughts enough to respond. "You don't understand," she said. "Neither of you understand the way things are at the Institute, any more than I would understand... aerodynamics, or the inclinations of the dead. I know it's hard, but if nothing else, I ask you to trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Andrea caught her hand. "Of course you do, dear heart," she said in a tone of mollification. "Neither of us is saying otherwise. We have only your best interests at heart. If you say this is wonderful news, then we believe you."

"If you just could do a better job of making us think you believe it," Beatrice said. She broke off when Andrea swung around to gave her a look, but even that wasn’t enough to prevent her from giving Andrea a _Well, it's true_ , look. Her mouth settled into a stubborn line.

Elizabeth swallowed down her hurt. Her friends were, after all, only trying to help, and she had to concede they weren't entirely off the mark. It was true, certainly, that the Institute wasn’t quite what she had expected. She could never have prepared herself for the politics, for one thing, or the vanity of some of the scholars, or the way many of them seemed to bicker and squabble amongst themselves. All she had ever wanted was to work her way up to a Professorship as her father had done, to earn her own plaque on the wall, and to have the freedom to embark on her own courses of research. Nor could she avoid her unease about Professor Abraxas, although he had never been anything but charming, and he always made the right noises about making sure she met with every bit of success that she deserved, but it seemed that success was always to come in the future when the time was right, and as yet the time had never shown any signs of being right.

"I'll admit," she said, choosing her words as carefully as Andrea had, "it isn't quite what I imagined when I applied, but whose life does turn out exactly the way they expected when they were young?"

"Mine did," Beatrice said.

"Mine too." Andrea shrugged, sipping her wine. "Sorry. But then I suppose it's a lot easier to reach your dreams when you don't give a damn about propriety."

"Ugh," Elizabeth said, laughing despite herself. "Remind me why I was ever friends with the two of you again?"

"Because you adore us and we adore you." Andrea squeezed her hand, her calloused fingers warm over Elizabeth's own. "In all seriousness, dear heart, you know we're only ever happy if you are, don't you? If you tell us that you're entirely content. And that you've never once wished for something _more_ , then we'll accept that and nevermore speak a word of dissent."

"What else could there possibly be?" Elizabeth asked. Her growing suspicions intensified as Andrea poured her another glass of wine, emptying the bottle right up to the dregs, then gave a shrill whistle to attract the attention of the bartender. He nodded, and brought over not just anther bottle of the same impeccable (and surely priceless) vintage but a somewhat dusty bottle of Bleakwater whisky, a sure sign that there was to be business done this night.

Andrea poured a shot for each of them alongside the wine. The sweet honeyed spirit and the blackcurrant and rose of the wine mingled together, perfect complements to each other. "If I didn't know better," Elizabeth began, and then clamped her mouth shut. Her next words were about to be: _I'd think you were planning on seducing me_. The wine was going to her head, and the whisky certainly wouldn’t help.

"Forget the Institute," Beatrice said with a contemptuous wave of her hand. "Guilds and organisations are never about supporting the individual, especially when said individual is a woman."

"Embark on a course of private research," Andrea said. "Something which will buy you prestige in your own right."

"Mm," Elizabeth said. "Is the word you were looking for really prestige or is it notoriety?"

Andrea shrugged. "In my experience the two things are much the same."

"Not in mine."

"It's what you've always wanted isn't it?" Beatrice said. "To be able to guide your own research? And to rightly claim every piece of the credit?"

"Yes, but–"

"And let's say there was a research opportunity waiting for you," Andrea continued, "with the potential for real breakthroughs to be made, something which almost no one had investigated before...."

"And naturally, you happen to have such an opportunity for me."

"As a matter of fact," Andrea said, sipping her wine with a smug expression, "I rather think I do."

Even Elizabeth had to admit that it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, if only because anyone pursuing such a course could expect to have their lifetime drastically cut so short there would be no chance for other opportunities. The outpost Andrea believed she had found in the jungle appeared to be the base for a larger expedition, and there were signs – promising signs – that those explorers had stumbled across evidence of not just an ancient civilisation, but _the_ ancient civilisation, the forerunners of the Madegi, the founders of the City, a civilisation that had, so it was believed, reached apotheosis.

Naturally, it would be dangerous. Aside from the risks poised by the jungle, the poisonous plants and dangerous animals and so forth, there were also rumours of the ghosts of pirates who had long used the shallow mangrove swamps as cover from Empire sloops.

Beatrice would be there to help with the ghosts and to scry out information in an attempt to circumvent the worst of the danger, and Elizabeth... Well, in truth Elizabeth wasn't at all sure what Andrea wanted her for. It all seemed like madness, the sort of wildly indulgent fantasy they’d embarked on as girls. Which was fine and good, as far as it went, but people were supposed to grow up. She wasn't that girl any more, dreaming about endangering her life in search of knowledge and adventure. Even if on occasion, such as now, she rather wished she was.

"It all sounds wonderfully brilliant and terrifying," she acknowledged, "and I wish you both the best of luck. I rather suspect you'll need it. But I can't see what any of this has to do with me."

"It isn't just a building, overrun by jungle," Andrea said. "Something happened to it to make it vanish, I'm certain of that. The terrain is dangerous, but it's not that dangerous. Someone ought to have found it by now, especially with all the modes of transport and advances we've made in the last fifty years. So why hasn't it been found?"

"I really couldn’t say."

Andrea’s eyes gleamed as she leaned forward and hissed, "Because _it isn't there_."

Perplexed, Elizabeth stared at her,

Beatrice gave a grunt of amusement. "Darling, if you're going to give her the hard sell, perhaps you ought to do it sober."

"It was that damned article in the Chronicle that gave me the idea. Parallel dimensions. A building that's both there and not there, which you can glimpse through the foliage but never actually find. Somehow it's been shifted, I'm sure of it. And that's–"

"That's why you need me," Elizabeth finished, torn between annoyance and fascination. "I... I won't say I'm not flattered, but what you're asking me to do..."

"Make a name for yourself?"

"Desert my colleagues, a man who has never been anything but supportive..."

"To give him the best opportunity of stealing your work and claiming it for yourself," Beatrice interrupted. "Darling, you're brilliant. You always have been. Put your brilliance to use where it won't go to waste."

"I can't! Don't you see? It's entirely out of my hands."

The two of them stared at her. Elizabeth was reminded then of the three of them as girls, the memory so keen she could almost feel it, how when the wind blow in from the west they could almost taste of adventure in the air, sweet and warm, and laced with the scent of flowers.

It was Beatrice who looked away first, her eyes dark.

"All right," Andrea said, softly, and kissed the back of Elizabeth's hand. "I won't press, but what I do ask is that you at least consider it. You have a little time, but not much; we're leaving in the morning."

"With or without you," Beatrice put in.

"It'll be without," Elizabeth said, trying not to think about how desperately part of her wanted to say yes. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to be sorry," Andrea said. "And we'll say no more about it," she added with a pointed look at Beatrice. "We love you, dear heart, and we're proud of you for choosing your path and sticking to it."

True to their word, not a word of the rest of the night was spent on trying to talk her round. The mood shifted, the tension easing away. The wine flowed, but the bottle of whisky made no more appearances, secreted away in the pocket of Andrea's coat. They talked of other things and they laughed, the wine going to Elizabeth's head, but she felt dizzy and happy, aware that she never wanted this moment to end. At one point she felt Andrea's hand on her knee, and thought, her eyes catching Andrea's: _Maybe they_ are _trying to seduce me._

Finally, they bid the bartender a fond goodnight, and climbed the steps to the street. There, they walked three abreast, Andrea and Beatrice on either side of Elizabeth, their arms hooked through hers. It had been a night meant for celebration, spoiled only by a single dark note: the realisation that if their journey was as dangerous as they described, then she might never see them again. Elizabeth had pushed the thought away, determined to enjoy herself, but it returned now with a stab to her heart, a twinge of reluctance and regret at the thought of parting, and so soon.

"It doesn't have to end," Andrea said when she voiced her regret. "It's early."

"In the morning, perhaps," Beatrice said, laughing. "But still, you're right. There's no need for the evening to end just yet."

"Why not?" Elizabeth agreed. Arm in arm and glorying in the envious looks cast their way, the three of them made their way to the sky-docks where Andrea’s airship had its temporary mooring.

A steam-powered lift bore them upwards with a grinding of cogs and cables, sparks tumbling down all around them like fireflies. At the top, the doors to the lift opened, and while Andrea marched out, Beatrice held back, her hand in Elizabeth’s.

"Am I being foolish?" Beatrice asked, her voice low so that Andrea did not overhear. "I never dreamed of saying no. You don't, you know, when Andrea comes to you with a proposition, or at least I don’t, but this..."

"You said the augurs were good," Elizabeth said, drawing her into a hug. She’d intended it to be reassuring, but the scent of Beatrice’s perfume, the mingled jasmine and spices, seemed to turn it into something else. "Surely that's all that matters," she concluded, more weakly.

Beatrice drew back and gazed into her eyes. "I wish you were coming with us," she said with feeling. "We're stronger together, the three of us. We always were."

Her eyes lingered on Elizabeth's, flickered down to her lips, and then she leaned in and kissed her. Elizabeth's momentary surprise was quickly forgotten in the sweetness of the kiss and the softness of the lips against her own. Her skirts rustled as Beatrice stepped closer, Elizabeth’s hands rising to her bare midriff.

At the sound of footsteps they broke apart. Andrea was approaching with an air of nonchalance concealing her obvious interest. "Surely you're not starting without me," she said, an eyebrow cocked.

* * *

Andrea’s ship was small enough that it was dwarfed next to the hulking dirigibles and trade ships moored alongside, but it had been built for speed and manoeuvrability, and once they were on board, it would have been clear that it was well cared for even if Elizabeth hadn’t been aware of the pride Andrea took in her ship. They moved into the captain’s cabin, which was small and cosy, with a porthole that gazed out onto the twinkling lights of the city, and filled with the evidence of Andrea's life and interests: the books stacked on a narrow shelf; a desk cluttered with items of navigation such as a battered brass aethermeter with a cracked glass casing and esoteric charts of the stars and air currents.

There was more wine, but that was quickly forgotten when without preamble Beatrice began tugging the pins out of Elizabeth's hair, while Andrea in turn tugged at the buttons of her dress. There seemed something practised about the way they had set to the business, as though they were a pack working together to capture their prey. Which might have given Elizabeth some qualms, were it not for the way Beatrice was kissing her throat from behind, sending shivers of pleasure rippling out over her skin. Even when Andrea, dropped to her knees and threw Elizabeth's skirt over her head, she didn’t protest, but sighed in delight and leaned back against Beatrice. When she came Beatrice was there at her back to steady her, and she fumbled backwards, wrapping her hand around the back of Beatrice's head and twisting back to kiss her.

Then, when Andrea slipped out from under Elizabeth’s skirts and rose to her feet, Beatrice turned her attentions to Andrea, her teeth nipping sharply at an ear so hard it had to have hurt a little. Andrea's lips parted to suck in a sharp breath of pleasure, and Elizabeth realised, with a confusion of arousal and envy that they must have done this before, the two of them.

Beatrice caught Elizabeth's gaze and flashed her a wicked grin, before she pulled Andrea away and pushed her onto the bed. Elizabeth and Beatrice soon followed, and Elizabeth’s suspicions that they were more familiar with each other than could be expected from their long-standing friendship were quickly confirmed. Whatever envy she felt did not last for long. She was too overwhelmed by the sensations, and the intimacies that could be claimed, and how it felt not like changing the nature of their friendship, but extending it.

With teeth on skin, breath drawn through parted lips, and chests flushed with arousal, they took pleasure in each other, but it was more than simply sex: they found themselves laughing even more than they had earlier in the evening, at the awkwardnesses that came from attempting to cram too many bodies into a bunk that was really too small even for one: hair caught beneath a misplaced elbow, the moment when one or the other of them nearly toppled onto the floor.

Eventually, Elizabeth, panting and laughing, managed to escape from the tangle of limbs in order to pour herself a glass of wine and catch her breath. As she sipped, she watched them for a moment, Beatrice riding Andrea's thigh, rocking herself to her orgasm, and already beginning to lose control of her rhythm as she drew closer to her peak. Andrea sat up on her elbows to watch, her hair sticking to her forehead and her eyes gleaming bright.

And even in the midst of all this, Elizabeth felt a sharp stab of regret and sorrow.

This could be the last time I ever see them, she thought, and knocked back the wine, her mood momentarily dimming. She remembered the brief flash of vulnerability and fear Beatrice had shared before they'd boarded. Their fortunes would bode well if the three of them went, but if there were only the two of them...

Her throat tightened. And then they were calling her back to the bed. Setting aside her fears, Elizabeth knocked back the rest of the wine and went to them.

* * *

When she woke, the bed was moving beneath her. Elizabeth, pressing her head into the pillow and groaning, took it at first for the after-effects of the wine, and it took her a moment to realise that the reason the bed felt like it was moving was because the _room_ was moving, and if that were the case–

"Oh no! No, no, no!" She scrambled out of the bunk, grasping about for the nearest thing to cover herself, and stumbled to the porthole. Her suspicions were immediately confirmed. They were in flight. Pressing her cheek to the porthole, she could barely see a sliver of land far, far below.

A few minutes later, she burst out of the cabin, scrambling up the steep stairs to the desk.

Andrea was at the wheel, Beatrice beside her. Elizabeth skidded to a stop, lost for words.

"Our passenger awakes," Andrea said, "You never were an early riser. Beatrice was fool enough to wager me a crown that you'd wake up before we cleared the city limits."

Elizabeth stared at them, then drew a sharp breath as the land below caught her eye. The airship was flying low over mangrove swamps, following a grey river as it threaded its way into the jungle. Near the horizon, black glassy rocks where nothing could ever grow rose out of the clinging green foliage. Forcing her attention back to her friends, she spoke, still hardly able to believe what they had done.

"You _press ganged_ me?"

"Press ganged seems a little harsh," Andrea protested, but then she admitted, "But probably fair."

Elizabeth gave a disbelieving laugh, and pressed her hand to her mouth. "You're both mad," she said.

"It was too good an opportunity to miss," Beatrice said. "You’ll thank us when we’re there." Her expression darkened. "And trust me when I say it’s for the best."

As she walked away, Elizabeth walked to the side and gazed down at the jungle, knowing that she should be angry, even outraged at what was essentially an abduction. Instead, aside from some irritation at herself for not having expected it of them, all she felt was relief.

Andrea cast Elizabeth a penitent look. "Look," she said, "if you want to go back, you only have to say."

"Was it Beatrice’s idea?"

"Mine. But I didn’t mean it. But you know Beatrice: I couldn’t say ‘no’ to her any more than I could say it to you. So if you want me to turn the ship around and take you home, I will. You only have to say." At Elizabeth’s silence, she prompted, "Dear heart?"

"Well, I suppose I’m here now," Elizabeth said. "So it looks like the two of you are stuck with me." So much for propriety: apparently adventure had been more important after all.


End file.
